Stranger
by thehybridmikaelson
Summary: It was ridiculous because she's known him since she was about five years old. Klaroline one-shot


**So, this is my second Klaroline which is, for the most part, AU, I think. Be gentle.**

**That is all. **

It was ridiculous because she's known him since she was about five years old.

It was ridiculous because he's always been the same smiling, happy person.

It was ridiculous for so many reasons she doesn't understand.

* * *

She had met him for the first time when she was five - it was her first real memory of, well, anything - and she'd been sort of enchanted. In the way five-year-old girls are with handsome, sophisticated men who looked so old and had such a nice voice and the most adorable dimples.

Back when her fingers used to fit right into his dimples when she poked him.

The next year, when she was back with her aunt for the holidays, he was still there. He was still the same. He was fun to talk to when Marissa, who was her cousin and three years older than her and absolutely _horrible_ would leave her alone to go play with her other friends, who were also _horrible_. She'd go to him in the place she could always find him, the place that always had a lot of sunlight in patches on the grass that always looked dewy. Then she'd tell him about how horrible Marissa and her friends were, and he'd tell her in his foreign and exotic accent that they were the ones missing out company of a beautiful girl and she'd giggle. At the age of six.

And she'd not really questioned it when she would keep returning and he'd be the same. The same when she was seven. The same when she was eight. The same when she was twelve. Why hadn't she questioned it? That she was growing and that she went from three-feet-nine to four-feet-eleven in the seven years she'd known him and he'd always been the same, with the scruff on his cheeks and the sandy curls and the bluest blue eyes.

She had been so naive. Stupid, even. He could have been a paedophile and she wouldn't even have realized. The worst part was that she'd never even told anyone. Her aunt would be out all day, leaving Caroline and Marissa to play together, but Marissa would leave and would return thinking that Caroline had spent all day being sad or bored, and she'd have the secret pleasure of knowing something she didn't. It was like he was her secret, a secret she kept from everyone, her mother, her father, her friends.

Of course, he'd never done anything to her, nothing that would mark him a murderer or paedophiliac or evil.

When he was five he would swing her around and occasionally play catch.

When she was six he'd sit and listen to her ramble about anything, mostly about how awful Marissa was.

When she was seven he'd listen, seemingly fascinated, about everything. How her aunts had always been Miss Mystic Falls and she was going to grow up and be a cheerleader and how she wished she could afford those riding classes her best friend Elena was taking and about the hundreds of clothes and shoes she'd seen and wanted.

At eight he actually _got _her shoes that he said were from Paris; she not really said no and her mother had always believed that the six pairs of expensive new shoes she'd gotten were from her aunt.

When she was nine she'd learned about a palace in some place whose name she'd forgotten and she talked about it for the first three days of her vacation. He'd been there, he said. She'd found _that_ odd, because she'd thought he always stayed where he was now. He'd told her that he didn't always stay here but he'd always be here for the Summer so he could talk to her. Always. She'd been flattered. Then he'd told her about the palace, the rooms and the majesty and the gardens. Then they'd talked about other palaces all around the world. He'd seen them all.

When she was ten she asked him if he remembered how he'd told her about the palaces last year. Of course he remembered. She asked him to talk about the king and queens and their clothes and their jewellery and when he did, she wished she had something like that. The next day he'd gotten her a necklace, simple, only a pendant on a thin chain, but still incredibly beautiful to her, that he said he'd stolen from the Queen of France.

When she was eleven she talked about her parents and how they'd been arguing so much and how maybe they were going to split up. She thought they were. She didn't want them to. She wanted them to stay a family. He'd looked sad and told her that his family had also had problems. She'd asked him where they were now. He'd given her a small, sad smile that told her that he didn't think she'd understand but answered her question all the same, vaguely. He said they were lost to him for now.

That winter her parents had divorced. That was sort of when she'd started taking him as the one constant in her life; even when she had more friends and less friends and whether or not her parents lived under the same roof, he would be there waiting when Summer came. He'd always be there. He'd always be the same.

When she was twelve she'd discovered boys. So she went there and told him all about the boys in school and how she thought it was weird that Bonnie thought boys had cooties or something when they were all so nice. Bonnie was being weird. And all the boys seemed to flock to Elena, it was so weird. Why her? Why did she have a family and seem to be better best friends with Bonnie than her? It wasn't fair. He told her that even he used to be jealous of his brothers, back when he was a child, but then he'd realized that he had nothing to be jealous of and why should she, Caroline, be jealous of someone else when she was so much better?

When she was thirteen and the only thing she wanted was to go back to her aunt's home and see him, her aunt moved. So she did go to her aunt's home, but he wasn't there.

* * *

It was ridiculous because she still kept that necklace and those shoes in her cupboard.

It was ridiculous because he had tried to kill her. When she was six she'd told her that he'd protect her from the big bullies her cousin and her friends were. She'd smiled and he'd told her that she could count on his protection from _anything_.

What was even odder was that the first time she met him this time round, she'd not recognized him. Maybe it was because she was shocked about Tyler becoming a hybrid. Klaus making him a hybrid. Whatever. So when he walked into that classroom and referred to her as 'Love', she didn't even realize. It didn't even occur to her.

How could she have missed the resemblance even six years after the last time she'd seen him?

And how could it have slipped from her mind and grasp at Homecoming?

... _That _might have had something to do with her being unconscious most of Homecoming. Because of Tyler.

* * *

Almost dying had taken her back. Back to when she was seven and climbing trees in too-long jeans and when she was nine and hearing of all the palaces in the world. So many cities. Such a big world. She'd wanted to see all of it. Almost dying had taken her back to the clearing she'd found at the age of five with a small man sitting in the middle, sketching something. She'd stood behind a tree and shyly watched, wondering what he was drawing. An hour later she wasn't even beginning to be bored. Then he'd called out to her and shown her his drawing of a little girl hiding behind a tree watching something and they'd become best friends.

* * *

What almost hurt was that he hadn't seemed to recognize her.

* * *

Almost dying had given everything a dreamlike quality. In her dream, he was back, and he looked sad. He'd always known everything when she was a child; did he know that she was dying, too?

She remembered how he'd told her that if she wanted he'd show her the world. Maybe he had just been humoring her, maybe he really would have. Maybe it didn't matter now. He'd never be able to. She was dying.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asked, because she wanted to live but she really, really wanted to die too. It hurt, this place between living and not quite dead. It hurt and maybe he'd be able to take it away the way he'd been able to take away all the hurt back when.

"On your birthday? Do you really think that low of me?" He'd seemed offended, and she wanted to tell him that she didn't mean it that way, but she'd stopped. Of course not. It was somewhere between then and much, much later that she realized that she'd probably already knew, somewhere in the back of her mind and never wanted to accept it.

"Yes." She'd said, and she'd wanted to cry. Reality had made its way in for a second, and then everything was clearings and trees and endless fun with him again.

He'd come closer and stood at the edge of the bed, looking sad. It was sad, wasn't it? That he'd somehow found her now, six years later, and she was dying. It wasn't fair. She'd missed him. She wanted to tell him that, show him the drawing of her she still had and the shoes she'd kept for years after they'd become way too small for her and the little crown he'd made of leaves and the necklace that had remained her favorite piece of jewellery.

He pulled the cloth away, making her gasp with pain, and looked at the werewolf bite. She wondered how he knew about werewolves. But then he did know, didn't he? He always knew everything. He exhaled shakily, and she shook some more, eyes closed. It hurt. She would have liked that he'd killed her already and she didn't have to go through that.

"That looks bad." Of course it did. He knew. He always knew. "My apologies you were just collateral damage, it's nothing personal." Collateral damage. At least Klaus didn't know she existed. That was a good thing. She wondered how _he_ knew that Klaus didn't acknowledge her existence much.

She looked up at him, inhaling. Would this have happened if he had known?

Why had he forgotten?

Why had _she_ forgotten?

He flicked a charm on the bracelet Tyler had gotten her.

"I love birthdays."

He always had. She remembered when she was eight and she'd told him about her birthday. She always had an amazing time. She'd told him, once, that she wanted to be able to stay with Marissa all year round, and when he'd asked her why, she'd told him it was because she wanted to celebrate her birthday with him. He'd smiled; he would like that.

He was here on her birthday now, and she was dying.

It was so unfair.

"Yeah. Are you like, a billion, or something?" She asked. She'd always been too polite to ask, but with the things he knew... He could have been a billion.

"You have to adjust your perception of time when you become a vampire, Caroline." So he _was_ a vampire. No surprise there, huh? "Celebrate the fact that you're no longer bound by trivial human conventions. You're free."

But she wasn't, was she?

"No. I'm dying."

Then he sat down next to her, looking sad and also comforting the way he'd always looked when she was sad. He was still the same. Always a constant in her life.

"And I could let you." Then why hadn't he killed her? Why hadn't he just ended it? "Die. If that's what you want. If you really believe your existence has no meaning." There was so much emotion in his eyes. He'd always had expressive eyes. Had she really never noticed them before? She'd always thought she was perceptive; had she not seen this before, really, ever? "I've thought about it myself." So much vulnerability. Something she'd never seen in him before. He'd always been so strong, so confident in himself. "Once or twice, over the centuries, truth be told." He was old. So old.

He leaned in closer, and she could make out all the features she'd memorized as a child in his face again, and just the familiarity was so comforting. "But I'll let you in on a little secret: there's a whole world out there waiting for you. Great cities... and art... and music." He closed his eyes, and she wanted to smile if it were really worth the effort. It was so familiar. All of it. He'd told her of the great cities, a little about the art, even less about the music. He'd been the one who'd opened up the world to her. And the smile, that co-conspiratorial smile on his face. How many times had she seen that?

She missed him.

"Genuine beauty. And you can have all of it. You can have a thousand more birthday. All you have to do is ask." And then she was crying. Klaus wouldn't save her, and _he_, even though he had promised to protect her, couldn't do a thing. She was dying of a werewolf bite and there was nothing he could do to save her.

Was there?

"I don't want to die."

He looked like he was going to smile, and then he pulled back his sleeve and pulled her into his chest, and she was eleven again and crying about her parents possible split.

He offered her his wrist and she took it, biting into the flesh and feeling the blood entering her mouth.

Saving her.

It was here she realized for real that he was saving her, like he'd promised her he always would. Klaus was saving her. Because they'd always been the same person, hadn't they?

"Happy birthday, Caroline." He whispered, and she was crying because it was just cruel.

* * *

When she woke up the next day, she felt a little bruising on her neck, but apart from that she was perfectly alright.

And then she saw a small velvet-covered box tied with a white ribbon. There was a note attached, and it said, 'From Klaus'. She knew him and she knew how extravagant he could be, so she opened her box hesitantly.

Inside was the most beautiful bracelet she'd ever seen.

* * *

It was ridiculous because when she was five, he'd been the savior of the world, not the one everyone was terrified of and wanted to kill.

* * *

She was going to wear his gift because she had nothing else to wear. That was all. And how else would she go to a fancy ball, anyways?

She was sort of tired of his not recognizing her. She'd missed him terribly for the past six years, and he obviously hadn't, because otherwise he would have remembered. She wasn't _that_ different from when she'd been twelve. Really.

* * *

It was ridiculous because she wanted him to remember, but she didn't know what that would change. He would still be the same murderous Klaus who was using Elena as a bloodbag to make hybrids and still the same Klaus who'd made Tyler leave and almost killed her and made Stefan become this jerk.

But he was also the guy she'd trusted before she knew not to and because he'd never given her any reason to not trust him and had caught her when she'd fallen off the tree the first fifty times or so she'd tried to climb a tree.

* * *

He really needed to stop staring at her. It was sort of creeping her out. It was nice, of course, but it really _was_ creeping her out just a little bit.

"I'm glad you came." He said in his voice that she guessed she'd never really appreciated before.

"Well, it was either caviar or sympathy casseroles."

"I heard about your father." It was so wrong coming from him. He was the first one she'd told about all her worries concerning her parents. Even before her best friends. And now her father was dead and it seemed so wrong for him to apologize about that.

"Don't. Seriously."

"Very well. Onto more mannered subjects then, like how ravishing you look in that dress."

Right. Of course. That was sort of why she was wearing it, wasn't she?

"I didn't really have time to shop."

"And the bracelet I gave you, what's your excuse for wearing that?" Only that it was beautiful and the first birthday gift he'd ever given her and why couldn't he ask her what her excuse for wearing the necklace he'd given her was?

"You know, you're quite the dancer." Dancing round and round and round, laughing like crazy. One of the happiest days of her life. She would switch with her nine-year old self any moment.

"Well, I've had training. I happen to be Miss Mystic Falls."

"I know."

He what?

* * *

She'd sort of heard he was coming.

"You like horses?" Of course she liked horses. One more thing she'd told him before her best friends; how she really, really wanted those riding lessons Elena had gone for. She'd never really told them that because she didn't want to sound rude or hurt them. But she had.

"I'm not talking to you until you tell me why you invited me here." Was she being too obvious? She wanted to know. That was it.

"I fancy you."

He _what_?

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Yes, it was! Yes, yes, yes! "Yes."

"Why? You're beautiful, you're strong, you're full of light. I enjoy you."

No. No, this was all wrong. It felt nice, not to lie. She'd never been told that she was strong or full of light. But it was wrong. He was supposed to tell her that he remembered her from when she was five and then become the good person she'd thought he was and never bother Elena again.

Then maybe she'd justify liking him.

Because she wouldn't lie, she'd always kind of had a small crush on the guy from the forest. The mystery surrounding him, how amazing and kind and beautiful he was, and, well, the fact that he'd been her best friend without knowing her for more than a full month of her life. Nik, which was what she used to call him, used to spend about three hours between ten in the morning and one in the afternoon nearly everyday for the month she spent at her aunt's house. Add that up and you got about four days a year, which was about twenty four days in the six years. Almost a month. And he'd been her best friend for the rest of the six years, too.

And knowing that Nik was Klaus hadn't really made it go away, had it?

"Well, I'm spoken for. By Tyler."

"But I thought you two ended things." Always knowing everything. Always.

"Yeah, because of you and your freaky sire bond with him."

"So you aren't spoken for." Always right. Always.

"You know, uh, horses are the opposite of people. They're loyal. My father hunted me for a thousand years and the closest he ever came was the day he killed my favorite horse. He severed his neck with a sword as a warning."

She'd thought she knew everything about him. What a lie she'd let herself believe.

"Did you ever consider sitting down with your father and talking it out?" He'd asked her if she'd thought of sitting down with her parents, talking about their problems. For her eleven year old self that had been the perfect solution.

She was mocking him right now.

"Well, I'm afraid my relationship with my father was a little bit more complex than yours." It had been, hadn't it? That was why he'd spent a month every Summer for six years with a child. Far from his siblings, his mother. His father had made it like that.

"Maybe so. But I let my father go with no regrets. And to answer your question, yes, I like horses. But I also like people and they actually like me so I'll be inside."

Why was she even trying? This was hopeless.

* * *

It was ridiculous because he didn't notice. Of course he didn't notice. But she wasn't exactly trying hard, was she?

She should just forget it.

* * *

His sketches were amazing. The painting hanging on his wall didn't compare, not nearly. But Caroline didn't know that, the little girl did.

"I take it the curators at the Louvre aren't on vervain."

"Yeah, well, that's their mistake."

"What about these? Where'd you steal this from?" Another queen, maybe? Like the necklace? She was pretty sure queens didn't even wear the kind of necklace she was wearing. He had probably been lying.

"Well, that's a long story. But rest assured it was worn by a princess almost as beautiful as you."

Or not.

"Wait a second. You still draw?" That came out wrong.

She'd just thought that maybe in between becoming evil and making hundreds of hybrids he'd stopped drawing.

Klaus was frozen.

"Caroline?" He asked, something strange and vulnerable in his voice. Yes, he had known her name. It was an unfair advantage, really, and even then she'd realized that he was him before he'd realized that she was her.

"You draw?" She asked, trying to change the topic. Hopefully he wouldn't notice. Hopefully he would think of it as a slip of tongue.

No, she wasn't nervous.

She _never_ felt nervous.

Except, it turned out, around him.

"Where did you get that necklace?" She swallowed, looking at the floor. Her shoes. The sketch.

Anywhere but at Klaus.

"A... friend gifted it to me." A spark of recognition in his eyes.

"Ah."

"When I was seven."

"I see. That's a very long time. And you still have it?"

"I did." Continue looking at the floor. The bracelet. The hem of the dress. "He was one of my best friends. One of the nicest people in the world. I knew everything about him."

"I see." There was even more of it now, the vulnerability and the something strange.

"Did you know, he also gifted me three pairs of shoes? And a drawing? It was very good, but not as good as yours. I still have them, too." She looked up now, into his eyes. He was staring at her.

"Oh."

And that was it. She turned around and left and he didn't even stop her.

* * *

It was ridiculous that she'd thought that the memory of a little girl from six years ago that she'd honestly thought he was affectionate for would drive all the evil out of him.

It was ridiculous because the next day his mother tried to kill him and Caroline was helping, if only in mind, because she couldn't do the whole seduce-the-Hybrid thing Damon had asked her to do.

It was ridiculous because at the end of that, Klaus stopped bothering her. And Stefan. And Damon. And Elena. And everyone. And Tyler came back and it was stupid that she broke up with him.

It was ridiculous, but he was the only thing that was always on her mind.

* * *

An eighteen year old Caroline could do things that a thirteen year old Caroline couldn't.

An eighteen year old Caroline could, for example, drive to where her aunt used to live just to see the forest she used to visit when she was five and six and seven and eight and nine and ten and eleven and twelve.

An eighteen year old Caroline could somehow get through the months that led up to Summer to wait for it.

An eighteen year old Caroline could hold back her tears when she wasn't alone in that clearing.

* * *

"What're you doing here?" He asked, sitting on the leaves, facing away from her, sitting in the same way he had been once before, his arms wrapped around his knees.

"Just visiting memories." She said, sort of choking. "What about you?"

And then he was standing a foot away from her, watching her.

"Waiting for a little girl who I promised to be here."

"It's been so long since she hasn't been here, though."

"Yes," he whispered. "Six years."

"So why are you here now?"

"I'm just here in case she decides to show up, like I have been every year."

And then she is crying, because that's just not fair.

And then they're kissing and it really can't be wrong now because she's been broken up with Tyler for months and Klaus hasn't really done anything to them for months, has he?

**So, this is my second Klaroline and it sounded better in my mind and I don't think the end was that great but I like it. **

**Review? **

**Thanks!**


End file.
